


I Don’t Wanna Be That Girl at Four O’Clock in the Morning

by OriginalCeenote



Series: His Girl Friday [2]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Awkward Breakfast, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:04:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Promise the Moon. Logan mulls things over the morning after his encounter with “Lily.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don’t Wanna Be That Girl at Four O’Clock in the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to Lex and W6C, my lovely friends. Title taken from “Sober” by Pink, of course. Her songs prod my muses pretty frequently.

Logan woke to the scent of frying eggs and coffee, tangled in the sheets, with his mouth tasting like paste. He groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face, wondering who replaced his brains with cotton balls while he slept. Yet his limbs were loose and lax, entire body feeling well-used, which only meant…

“Shit,” he murmured, voice a low croak. Whoever he brought home the night before was a morning person. 

“I got class like a ’57 Cadillac,  
And overdrive with a whole lot of boom in the back  
You look like you can handle what’s under my hood.  
You keep saying that you will, boy, I wish you would…”

And a tenor. Logan was impressed. Memories of the night before washed over him, and he leaned up on his elbows, staring at the doorway. A glance at the pillow beside him showed him the imprint of his houseguest’s head and a few strands of chestnut hair.

He yawned and stretched, scratched, and rose on creaky legs, listening to his bare feet click down the hall, stepping into his discarded boxers as he went. He steeled himself for the inevitable “morning after” confrontation, feeling slightly disappointed that it hadn’t happened in the bedroom. But Logan wouldn’t argue with breakfast.

He also wouldn’t argue with “Lily,” in all of her disheveled glory. She stirred a pan of eggs with a spatula and glanced up at him halfway through another bar of that atrocious pop song. Her face split into a grin. “Mornin’, shoog! Sleep good?”

“Wow. Ya sure are… cheerful first thing, huh?”

“When the sun comes up, so do I, sugah,” Lily told him, waving one long-fingered, well-manicured hand.

Lily was wearing Logan’s bathrobe, one tempting, tapered leg protruding from its flap. That long hair was pulled back into a ponytail with wisps falling down around that elegant face. No makeup. No false lashes. No earrings. 

The creature before him was stunning, inviting his hands, but Logan lingered in the doorway. “I made coffee,” Lily told him.

“Thanks, babe.” Logan saw Lily go back to her cooking – and to her singing, which made him suppress a chuckle. “That was nice of you.”

“I hope ya don’ mind my using yer shower, shoog.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I tried to keep it brief.”

“Yer my guest. Make yerself at home.” Logan went to the cupboard, hand gentle at the small of Lily’s back as he reached around her for his favorite mug. He thought she made a small sound of pleasure at his brief touch, smile toying with the corner of her lips, but he could have been imagining it.

“Wanna get me a plate for these?”

“Sure.” Logan turned down the volume of his iHome speakers, where a smartphone in a pink, blinged-out case was plugged in; Lily’s, most likely. Rihanna’s bad girl anthem played at a volume less likely to fillet his skull.

“Did I wake ya?” She eyed him apologetically. 

“I was gonna get up eventually.”

Awkwardness lingered between them. “Have ya gotta work today?”

“It’s Saturday, shoog.” Red-on-black eyes – Logan hadn’t dreamed those – twinkled at him. 

“Then, do ya have anywhere else ya hafta be?” Logan poured himself a cup of coffee, grunting with surprise at his first sip. She’d made it strong enough to knock down a moose.

“Not at the moment.” Then she looked guilty. “Have I gotta clear out, then? I don’t wanna impose-“ Logan set down his cup and shook his head. 

“No. No, no, don’t… it’s not that.” Logan closed the space between them, reaching down to turn off the burner.

“Ya like ‘em a little wet?”

“They’re fine, darlin’.” Logan gently plucked the spatula from Lily’s hand, tugged her away from the stove, hand tucked against her waist while the other combed through the mass of soft hair at her nape. “C’mere…” Lily’s eyes clouded with desire, and she made a tiny sound of relief and pleasure as Logan tugged her down for a lazy, searching kiss. The music seemed to dissolve in the background, barely noticeable over the sounds of their breathing and the sounds of their hands gripping each other, crumpling clothing and finding fevered skin. Lily’s arms twined around his neck, and she drank kisses thirstily from his mouth, no flavor of lipstick to taint hers. Logan did notice the hint of his toothpaste, telling him he’d missed out on sharing her entire morning routine. A shower with company might have been nice…

It was only when Lily pulled back – presumably to breathe – that he noticed how he’d been clinging to her, his robe barely a barrier between them at this point. His manhood throbbed between his legs, poking out the front of his boxers. Lily’s fingers combed through his hair, thumb stroking his sideburns. 

“Damn, yer good at that, cher,” she murmured.

“Ya don’t hafta hurry off,” Logan husked. “I wanna make sure ya have a ride home. That’s the only reason I asked.” 

“That’s the … only reason?”

Logan leaned up and chased her lips, arms locked around her lithe waist. She sighed into the kiss, trailing her hands down his broad, muscular back. She felt a draft of cool air and his fingers fumbling for the robe’s sash, and she chuckled knowingly. “Maybe not the only reason,” he amended. His hands felt hot when they skimmed over her waist, hips, tickling the curves of her ass and stroking her through the black silk panties. 

Lily was pulled from her haze by the feeling of throbbing flesh hardening between her legs, and suddenly, she drew back. Logan felt her tense. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

“I don’t hafta run off right now, cher… but I do have a show tonight. I wanna be fresh for it. I might not stay all that long, after all.” Before Logan’s eyes could cloud over with hurt, she told him, “Nothin’ personal. Just bein’ practical.” Because she was a practical girl. And she was conflicted. 

He hadn’t said anything about the makeup or clothing. Lily… Remy saw no judgment in Logan’s demeanor, and for all intents and purposes, he was aroused and willing even at the sight of Remy fresh-scrubbed.

“Can ya make any time to be ‘impractical, darlin’?”

“I might be able to pencil you in.” The voice didn’t waver, still smooth and rich as silk. “Remy” wasn’t ready to surface yet. Not quite. The flaps of the robe were hanging loose, unbound from the sash, exposing a narrow strip of Remy’s body. Logan saw the divide of a sculpted chest and abdomen, and the tempting portion of black silk. Logan reached up and stroked the elegant cheekbone with the backs of his fingers, ending their gentle trail at Lily’s chin to tip her face down for another chaste, sweet kiss.

“Always like it when people are flexible when it comes to fittin’ me in.”

“Oh, I’m _very_ flexible, sugah,” Remy teased. “C’mon, now. Come an’ eat.” She dished up their plates, and Logan belatedly noticed she’d made cinnamon toast, too.

“Are you serious?” Lily smile-frowned for a moment.

“About what, shoog?”

“I haven’t had cinnamon toast in I don’t know how long. I loved it as a kid.” Logan took a bite of that first, chancing that his eggs might get cold before he got around to eating them. “Aw, God…” He hummed in pleasure at the crust of buttery sugar crumbling on his tongue. Lily grinned. “Good idea. _Very_ good idea, babe.”

“Gettin’ it all over yer mouth, cher,” Lily chuckled.

“Don’t judge me,” Logan muttered around a mouthful. They ate companionably and chatted about this and that. Lily was originally from New Orleans. Logan was a transplant from Montreal.  
“I was a ‘lonely only,’” Lily mentioned. “Mighta been just as well.”

“Why’s that, darlin’?” Logan frowned over the rim of his coffee.

“Cuz it wasn’t easy on Tante when she took me in. She wasn’t rich. It was tough to stretch what she had for another mouth t’feed.” Lily toyed with the eggs on her plate, flaking them apart with her fork. “Woulda been even harder if I had any brothers or sisters, neh?”

“Doesn’t sound like ya had anyone to get in trouble with.”

“I managed t’get into trouble jus’ fine, shoog.” Those lovely lips curled, followed by a knowing wink. “I can do bad all by myself.”

“I was the youngest,” Logan told her. “Bottom of the totem pole. John and Vic didn’t let me forget it.”

“Awwww, were they mean t’ya?”

“I got stuck on the top bunk of the bed, even though I kept rolling off in the middle of the night. One time they stuffed me into the laundry hamper and piled telephone books on top of the lid. Another time, they convinced me to go down the steps in the laundry basket…”

“Aw, Lawd, they were tryin’ t’kill you, cher!” Lily snickered. “Fair enough. I’m glad I was an only.”

“Vic pretty much raised us.” Logan’s eyes darkened. “My mom ‘wasn’t all there.’ And my dad was killed when I was about nine.” 

A long, smooth, well-manicured hand slid across the table and covered his. Logan squeezed Lily’s fingers in response. “Bet they woulda been proud of who ya are now, cher.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He sounded doubtful. Lily decided to drop it. “Anyone else in yer family sing?” 

It was Lily’s favorite topic, and Remy’s. Logan finished his eggs and was regaled about Lily’s various recitals and concerts as a kid, and later, as an awkward teenager, gradually delving into her venues once she finished school. Lily poured them both refills on the coffee, which, to his delight, she’d made strong enough to strip paint off of a barn.

Lily cleared the table, but Logan stopped her from doing the dishes. “Yer my guest. Thanks fer breakfast.” He snaked his arm around her waist and kissed her graciously, and they stood like that for a minute or two, not in any particular hurry.

“Ya look good in my robe,” Logan sighed into her mouth.

*

They made their way back to Logan’s bedroom. Lily remade the bed while Logan headed for the shower, still disappointed that Lily snuck one without him. But he was in a good mood, humming under his breath as he washed his hair. 

Remy contemplated Lily’s clothes from the night before, almost wishing he’d thought to bring an overnight bag. But they would do. He eased himself back into the bustier – the snug top practically demanded it – and hopped back into the jeans. No matter who he was feeling like stepping out as, there was nothing better than a pair of Lucky jeans to make him feel sexy. Remy took advantage of Logan’s long shower to put “Lily’s” face back on. By the time Logan lumbered back out, towel around his waist and dripping slightly on the bedroom rug, “Lily” was staring back at him, putting the finishing touches on some winged eyeliner.

Logan whistled.

Lily blushed, waving her hand dismissively.

*

They stood out in front of Logan’s apartment after they ran into a couple of his random neighbors. Lily didn’t press for introductions, but she did catch curious glances, thankfully none of them hostile.

“Ya don’t hafta wait with me, cher.”

“Wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t.” They leaned shoulder to shoulder against the iron railing above the steps as they waited for the cab. Lily gave him a pointed look.

“Was this a date?”

“If ya want it t’be.” Lily paused a moment, then let out a cleansing breath.

“How do ya feel ‘bout the whole…” She motioned to herself, lifting a long lock of her air for emphasis. Logan shrugged.

“Yer a sharp dresser.” Lily snickered, then shook her head.

“Seriously, though.”

“Seriously? I wanna get t’know ya better.” He held out his hand. “Gimme yer phone.” Remy cleared the screen saver password and handed it over. Logan keyed in his contact info, and then set it on selfie mode, and took a photo of himself making an almost comically fierce face. Lily took the phone back and started down at the index card info.

“James?”

“Yup. Like my middle name better, though.”

“Suits you.” Lily took the phone back and sent his number a text. Ya might wanna save me as a contact when you open up my message.  
“Under what?”

“Lily’ll do fer now, shoog.”


End file.
